


Safe Haven

by braedymck



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Comfort, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27598697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braedymck/pseuds/braedymck
Summary: Jon can't put his sexuality into words, but he sure can put it into action.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 26
Kudos: 202





	Safe Haven

**Author's Note:**

> So this is basically my asexual manifesto... Shout out to my therapist that low-key insisted I write garbage fanfic erotica as an introspective exploration of my sensitivities toward imtimacy and the human body, love you Karla

It must have been at least a week. This new domestic routine Jon and Martin found themselves in made the days blur together into a stream of relative peace with an occasional pang of anxiety. Jon would spend his nights on the couch feeding on the statements that Basira mailed to the safehouse while Martin slept in the bedroom -- the only way Jon could spare him the details. During the day, Jon would take the bedroom for short naps while Martin was awake, making tea or reading. They’d occasionally walk down to the village together to replenish their food and living supplies. Every other day, they might ring Basira for an update on the Institute. More often than not however, they found themselves sitting on either edge of the sofa, reading in comfortable silence.

Jon had just awoken from one of his naps. The clock in the bedroom read 6:16pm. He found that the habit of sleeping on and off throughout the 24 hour day seemed to be his natural circadian rhythm, and he felt more rested than he had in ages. Even the dark stains around his eyes seemed less stark, though there was no hope for a complete cure for that. Three decades of poor sleep lent permanent damage. But at least he  _ felt _ better. 

He stretched as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his toes barely touching the floor. There was no window in the bedroom, but a warm glow of sunlight crept underneath the door, inviting him out. He tied his tangled hair into a very messy bun and moved toward the living room.

He rounded the corner, rubbing his eyes. He blinked a few times as he adjusted himself to the light, and before he could announce his return, his breath caught in his throat. The entire cabin, although small, was completely basked in the warmest, most peaceful evening sunlight he had ever seen. The big window next to the sofa showed a perfect view of the sun gently setting behind the rolling hills, and that orangey glow enveloped every inch of the tiny house. The steam from the kettle in the small kitchenette caught the light as it curled gently into the air. The pale wooden table in the living room illuminated in the calm brightness of the setting sun. The cozy blankets strewn about the sofa seemed to radiate warmth. And then, under the blankets, a smiling Martin.

His strawberry blonde hair seemed to catch flame in the sunlight. He was sat snugly on the sofa in his thickest turtleneck jumper with a mug in his hands, curled up under layers of blanket. And his smile... The way he looked at Jon with such a serene elation, a gentle pinkness around his nose and a delicate curl between his lips and sort of longing in his -- Jon looked away in a sudden panic. He was then acutely aware of the heat he felt on his cheeks, and he shook his head quickly in a desperate attempt to forget what he saw in Martin’s eyes. 

“Uh--” Jon started, involuntarily, and then quickly wished he hadn’t said anything at all. He could feel Martin’s gaze on him. There was a deep intensity to it, a look that made Jon’s heart stop. He couldn’t bring himself to meet it. He just... He couldn’t. His hands began to rub together, an old nervous tick of his, mildly slick with panicked sweat. “Ah--”

“Jon?” 

He had heard Martin, but he just  _ couldn’t _ look at him. Jon’s eyes darted around the room -- everywhere except for Martin’s... Well, his general vicinity, to play it safe.

Jon breathed in with intention of replying, but that was about as far as he made it.

“Are you alright?” Martin asked him. To Jon’s surprise, his tone of voice was... Neutral? There was an air of concern, but not too much. It just sounded... Normal, he supposed. Like the voice he had heard a thousand times before. Like the normal Martin that acted normally around him on normal days during normal life. Everything was normal here, right? Certainly. Very normal. Jon steeled himself to glance at Martin’s face--

Which actually just read as mildly puzzled. But that -- that  _ intensity _ was gone. Jon finally released that breath he had apparently been holding the entire time.

“What? Oh, ah, y-yes,” Jon stammered, still rubbing his hands together. But with an attempt of less violent force.

“Are you sure? ‘Cause you look like you’re desperately trying to pretend that you weren’t struck by lightning,” Martin said over a soft laughter. There it was again. His voice. It was familiar. It was... It was safe. Jon only half-forced a small chuckle.

“Y-yes, I... I was just... Surprised, is all,” Deep breath, Sims. It’s alright. “The sunset. It’s... It’s beautiful.”

Martin looked over his shoulder, out the window. He smiled again, warmly. “Yeah. Yeah it is.” Jon glanced at him again. He smiled a little.

“Uh-- Do you mind if I pour myself a mug?” Jon walked over to the kettle on the stove. The steam encircled Jon’s face in a pleasant warmth. He breathed it in slowly.

“Be my guest,” Martin said from the other side of the room. Jon poured himself a cup of tea and took a small sip, letting the hot beverage pool in his stomach and allowing himself to believe that’s why his body was feeling so warm. Yes. Yes, it was the tea.

Jon walked over to the sofa and took his place on his usual side. Martin offered him the end of the blanket, and Jon took it willingly. He tucked his legs under its softness and took another sip of his tea. Martin smiled at him again. Jon took a  _ longer _ sip of his tea.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as comfortable as I have in Daisy’s murder house,” Martin said, jovially. Jon let out a short chuckle into his mug. Before he could come up with a witty retort, Martin placed his hand gently on top of Jon’s knee. “I’m... I’m glad you’re here, Jon. With me.”

He recoiled. It was a reflex. He didn’t mean to! Oh god, what kind of message does that send? Is it too late to take it back? Yes, of course it’s too late, Jesus Christ, what kind of question--

Before Martin’s eyebrow could raise in curious concern, John grabbed Martin’s hand with his own and sputtered, “Ah, yes, I-I feel the same way.” Forced smile.

Martin’s expression was unreadable. Somewhere between worry and confusion and relief and happiness and... That’s where Jon chose to end the list. It was fine. Martin wasn’t hurt -- not obviously, anyway. And Jon could do hand-holding, they did hand-holding before. 

“O-okay,” Martin smiled with a slightly furrowed brow. “Ah-- Cool. Hah.” Martin squeezed Jon’s hand gently, rubbing his thumb over Jon’s knuckles. Jon could feel the heat in his cheeks betray him again.

They sat in a tense silence. Martin, in his best efforts, smiling warmly, and Jon with a full face of red and a pretty clear expression of abject fear.

Just... Tense silence.

Martin seemed to realize his best efforts were not enough. He let go of Jon’s hand to adjust his glasses. “Okay, Jon, you need to tell me what’s going on.”

Ah, fuck. The gig is up. Is it too late to run? Jon resumed his previous work of viciously rubbing his hands together until they started to chap. 

“I, uh... I just... I-I don’t--” Oh, god. What an entire can of worms. Jon knows he’s been guilty of speaking in cryptic tongue, but he  _ genuinely _ doesn’t know where to begin.

“Okay, okay,” Martin put his hands up, clearly knowing he was in for a lot of gibberish and not a lot of answers. He let out a long sigh before grabbing both of Jon’s hands in his. Jon willingly shut himself up.

“Let me tell you what I saw,” Martin said gently, looking strangely seriously at Jon. This was a kind of concern that Jon hadn’t seen before. “You walked out of the bedroom from your nap, you looked dreamily around the room for a few seconds, then you looked at me dead in the eyes and proceeded to have a panic attack.” Jon felt a bit of shame creep into the depths of his stomach. He looked down at his hands, limply holding onto Martin’s.

“And for the last few minutes, you’ve been trying to convince yourself that everything’s okay when it clearly isn’t.” Martin finished. Jon could feel Martin looking at him with such worry. Jon couldn’t face him.

“Jon,  _ please _ tell me what’s wrong.” 

Jon took a deep breath. He pulled his hands away to cross his arms tightly as he receded into the corner of the couch.

“I get... Uncomfortable. Sometimes.” He managed. He still couldn’t meet Martin’s eyes.

There was a long pause.

“O...kay, what makes you uncomfortable?” Martin really did his best not to sound too insistent. 

Another long pause.

“Well, if-- I saw... If I--” Jon let out an exasperated sigh. “I can’t reall-- I don’t--”

“Jon, I swear it’ll be less painful if you just spit it out.”

“Okay-- Okay, you... You know that I-- Well, I have... Feelings. For you. You know that, right?”

Martin let out a light-hearted scoff. “Well, you propositioned that we blind ourselves in order to run away together, I had better hope that you do--”

“Yes--yes, okay. Alright. Well. I figured... You, you probably... Have feelings for me too, right?”

Martin’s face softened a bit. “You could figure.”

Jon discreetly shook his head as if that would stop the flush over his cheeks. “Right. Okay. Well, my feelings have... Boundaries. Limits. And if I get the sense that your feelings might... Cross those boundaries, I get... Well, I get scared. I get scared because I don’t-- I don’t like rejecting you. On anything. Well, on  _ most _ things. But I also... There are just some things I can’t... Do.” 

Jon willed himself to look up at Martin, unsure of what he’d see. Curiously, he saw... Was that understanding?

Martin gave him the warmest, most genuine smile Jon had ever seen. Jon’s breath caught in his throat.

“Hey--” Martin reached out his hands, offering to take Jon’s. Jon hesitantly accepted. “I might not be an  _ ‘Avatar of The Eye,’ _ but you  _ know _ I can read you like a book.” Jon made a small huff. “I can see your boundaries written all over you. In your body language. Christ’s sake, in just your face. I can tell when you’re uncomfortable without you saying a word. And I can promise you,” Martin squeezed his hands firmly. “I will  _ never _ cross those boundaries.”

Martin looked at him with such earnesty. Jon felt his body soften completely under his gaze.

“...Thank you.” A rush of warmth came over his cheeks again. This time, he wasn’t afraid.

He was safe. He was secure. 

He could be honest. Authentic. Bold, even.

“Can I kiss you?”

_ TOO BOLD. _

“Wait-- I,  _ shit _ \-- I’m sorry-- I just--” Jon began to recede again, pulling back his hands and frantically looking around the room. He caught a glimpse of Martin’s face, which was completely confused and also completely pink.

“Jon?”

“No, I-- I’m sorry, I wasn’t--”

“Jon.”

“Wait-- hold on, I mean--”

“Jon, do you want to kiss me or not?”

“ _ YES _ , I just-- I do, but-- I’m just not  _ GOOD _ at-- at  _ handling _ this type of thing!” Jon smacked his palm to his forehead. What an absolute disaster he was.

Martin was patient. He let Jon take a few breaths before he gently pulled his hand away from his face. Jon tucked his hands back into his lap, feeling the urge to rub them together profusely.

“So this... Teeters the edge a boundary?” Martin asked.

“ _ It’s just that _ \-- Oh. Um, oh. Well, actually... Actually, yes, that’s quite a good way to describe it.”

“Like a book, Jon.”

“ _ Right _ , yes, right-- fine.”

“So... You want to kiss me. But you need to feel safe. Ergo... We take it slow.”

Jon nearly short-circuited. Was Martin seriously just... Understanding all of this immediately?

“I, uh... I would like that.”

“Right,” Martin said, the flush around his cheeks and ears starting to deepen. With an obviously nervous clearing of his throat, he asked, “W-would you mind if I sat closer to you?”

“Ah, no. No, not at all.”

Martin picked up his end of the blanket and scooted himself over to Jon’s side of the couch, leaving a small distance between them. He dispersed the blanket evenly overtop of them both, their legs fully covered by its warm softness. 

He smiled at Jon, and waited.

And waited.

Oh, god.  _ What was he waiting for? _ Was Jon supposed to do something? Jon felt his heart rate start to accelerate. What was he  _ missing _ ?

But Martin kept waiting.

Jon’s fingers started to twitch. The need to rub was coming on strong.

But Martin kept waiting.

Just waiting.

Was he...  _ Was _ he waiting?

“No, Jon, I’m just enjoying sitting next to you.”

_ What, how did he _ \-- “How did you--?”

Ah. 

“Ah.”

Martin took a deep breath and smiled again at Jon, with maybe a hint of waggishness. Jon tried not to smile out of spite, but he couldn’t hold it for long. Jon felt his shoulders relax. Woah, had they been that tense the whole time?

Martin clearly noticed. He offered his hand out again, and this time, Jon readily took them. They held each other tightly for a long moment.

Then Martin took Jon’s right hand and slowly placed it over Martin’s own heart. Jon felt Martin’s heart thump loudly and a bit quickly. 

Oh, no.

Fast heart rate, that’s--

But then Martin took a very deep breath, and Jon felt his heartbeat slow and soften within his grasp. It was... Comforting. To actually feel the life within Martin. Steady. Strong.

Martin gently squeezed Jon’s free hand. Jon guided Martin’s hand up to his chest. Martin closed his eyes as he pressed his palm over Jon’s heart, and he paused. He listened. Jon listened too. 

They both breathed.

Martin opened his eyes again and smiled. Jon felt peace. Warmth.

Martin very slowly moved Jon’s hand over his heart to cup the side of his face. So endearingly, Martin nuzzled his cheek in Jon’s hand, relishing the touch. Jon’s chest tightened as he held back what might have been a sob. Jon did not hesitate to do the same, feeling how soft and supple Martin’s fingers were against his own dry and rough face. Somehow, his face still felt hotter than Martin’s hand.

Martin then moved Jon’s hand toward the nape of his neck, just below his hairline. Jon could feel his face slip, revealing the nervousness that began to climb up his throat, but Martin was even quicker to respond. He slid Jon’s hand over his shoulder and paused. Jon breathed. He looked at Martin, who looked content as ever to hold him just where he was. And Jon knew that’s exactly how he felt. 

Jon took another deep breath and willed his own hand back around Martin’s neck, his fingertips brushing his thick, strawberry blonde curls. He had never stopped to consider how Martin’s hair felt. It was slightly coarse from being so thick, and when he brushed his fingers through it, it mostly stayed in place. The curls were loose and open, more like small waves, and they bounced softly when rustled. Jon then realized he was just feeling up all of Martin’s hair, and Martin was very clearly enjoying it. 

Jon blushed deeply and returned his hand to Martin’s neck, allowing him a turn. Martin wasted no time pulling the tie from Jon’s messy bun and letting loose Jon’s mane of wavy greying locks. Martin eagerly brushed his hands through it all, untangling each lock and twisting them around his fingers. Martin tousled his hair at the root, freeing each strand and giving the most pleasant scalp massage Jon had ever experienced. He felt like his eyes might roll back into his head at the sheer pleasure. That would cross a boundary though-- he resolved to just close his eyes and enjoy it.

When Martin had finished combing his hair thoroughly with his fingers, Martin tucked some of it behind Jon’s ear. Jon was certain his ears would ignite. But he breathed slowly and drank in the feeling of being seen. Metaphorically and physically.

Martin took Jon’s free hand again and pressed a sweet kiss onto his knuckles. With his lips still on Jon’s hand, Martin leaned forward to touch his forehead to Jon’s, closing the space between them. He placed Jon’s hand around his neck to meet the other, and they both breathed  _ very  _ shaky breaths. Martin released his own hands from Jon’s and gradually brought them down to Jon’s shoulders. Then onto his upper back. Then down to his waist. Jon shivered with every brush of Martin’s hands along his skin. He would have probably been a bit embarrassed by how his body moved under Martin’s touch if he had bothered to care at this point.

Martin let out a quiet laugh and tickled his nose across Jon’s. Jon was surprised by the sudden movement, but ultimately charmed. He reciprocated, delighting in the playfulness they shared at such closeness. They laughed lightly, noses bumping softly together.

And then they were still. Their breaths came a bit faster, a bit shallower. Their hands began to shake gently on each other’s body.

Martin took in a very slow, unsteady breath.

“...Jon?”

“...Martin.”

Another breath. 

“...Can I kiss you?”

Jon felt his own breath hitch. He swallowed.

“Yes.”

Martin paused. He brought a hand up to Jon’s chin, gently tilting his head back.

And he placed a small, closed-lipped kiss on the center of Jon’s upper lip.

Lightning shot between them.

And the flood gates had been opened.

Jon hurled himself into Martin, knocking him slightly off balance, as he wrapped his lips completely around his partner’s. He claimed every inch of Martin’s mouth as Martin desperately tried to not fall off the sofa.

“Jesus--  _ Jon! _ ” Martin desperately tried to remain upright despite the relentless force of Jon kissing him over and over. Their breaths became ragged as they grew greedier. Jon kissed down his cheek, down his neck, down to his collarbone as Martin tangled his fingers back into Jon’s hair. Martin dragged his teeth lightly against Jon’s neck and Jon let out a rugged moan that he did not know he possessed. Martin did everything in his power to make Jon do that again.

Fire. Deep in his chest and stomach. Absolutely scorching and endlessly hungry. Jon had never felt such a passion overcome him -- No. He had never been in a space so comfortable and protective that he would  _ allow _ this passion to overcome him. This safe intimacy, this romanticism -- it was within him all along, but only Martin could lure it out of him. 

Only Martin.

Only this man who would listen to him so intently.

Only this man who would wait with him so patiently.

Only this man who would respect every wish and desire of Jon with no hesitation or inquisition.

Only...

“Oh,  _ shit _ .” Jon abruptly halted in his tracks, leaving a panting Martin beneath him with a whirlwind of emotion strewn across his face. 

“Jon? Jon, are you okay?” Martin scrambled for his glasses, which had been knocked off long ago.

Jon looked deeply into Martin’s eyes. Martin cupped each side of his face with worry.

“Talk to me, Jon.”

“Martin, I--” Jon looked from one eye to the next, soaking in the pure captivation that Martin always showed towards him. “I-- I think I... I think I love you.”

Martin was still. He blinked once. Twice. 

“...You--”

“I think-- No. I  _ know _ . Martin, I  _ know  _ I love you.”

Martin’s eyes became glassy. Small tears spilled over his cheeks as he raked his gaze over Jon’s face.

“Jon, I... I-I love  _ you _ .”

Jon chuckled through tears of his own. They stared at each other, beaming and laughing and hugging and finally kissing again like the world would end tomorrow. Their hands swept over each other’s faces and arms and chests and backs, desperately groping and touching and feeling all within the limits of what Jon had decided. They both tasted of sweat and tears and absolute transcendence.

The sun had set long ago. And still, they exhausted themselves deep into the night. And when they had no more energy or breath to give, they resolved to curl up together on the bed and sleep the most peaceful sleep either had ever enjoyed.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
